Cursed Twice
by The Ship Sinker
Summary: When Kanda pierced Allen with his sword, they expected the boy to get up as he had always done. Turns out his Innocence can't repair a skewered heart. Kanda is left to deal with the results of his actions, but not everything is as it seems to be.
1. 0 - Prologue

**Cursed Twice**

-·=»‡«=·-

 **Prologue**

News reached the Order quite fast, courtesy of the Asian Branch Kanda avoided so much. They had found Allen Walker.

Despite his resolution to push the boy to the recesses of his mind, to erase him from his thoughts like he did to the many meaningless people around him, Kanda couldn't help but pay attention to the story's every detail, even as he cursed himself for it.

And what a story it was.

A fight against uncountable Akuma. A failed attempt to save the Fallen One, Suman Dark – the proper play of a noble hero. And then a fight with a Noah, stronger than any Akuma could ever hope to be.

Defeat. A hole to his heart and the consequent, unavoidable death; his Innocence, destroyed.

Reality finally deemed to pay a visit to Saint Walker, thought Kanda as he listened to the tale, unwavering amidst the people who lamented the tragedy ever so loudly. Walker was gone, and he allowed the annoying, senseless boy to drift away from his thoughts.

Weeks later, however, Kanda watched the corpse – the boy, alive and well, return to the Order, to the open arms of his so called family.

No hesitant steps, no visible trauma. Only that smile, brighter than ever, and an assurance that everything would be well. He was stronger, surer. His Innocence, more powerful than ever.

For a moment as fleeting as the blink of an eye, Kanda believed the rumor that spread through the Order like fire on a dry forest:

' _Nothing could kill Allen Walker.'_

-·=»‡«=·-


	2. 1 - Dead

**A/N:** All my stories have some (or many) inconsistencies with canon. That is because I am not willing to have perfect canon compliance limit my ideas. Please only read if you are willing to make some concessions.

 **Cursed Twice**

-·=»‡«=·-

 **Chapter one**

It is tragic that the brain will work only after the deed is done. A few seconds ago, the only thing he could see and hear and feel was rage, rage and more rage, from Alma and from himself, rage that would only be stopped by following through the overwhelming need of slaughter.

His mind screamed, and so did his body, pushed as it was to limits before unknown, the seal forced to a point Kanda had never dared to reach before, no matter how terrible the battle, and even when he faced almost certain death. Everything around and inside his body could deteriorate and he would pay it all no mind, as long as he managed to destroy the one in front of him. Alma. _Akuma_.

There was screaming everywhere, from those pitiful ants from the Order; likely pleads or threats begging him to stop. Naturally, they were ignored, and they also never tried to intervene, too afraid to put themselves in the middle of the battle between the two behemoths. Common sense told them to watch from afar, lest they were killed, and thus they remained out of his way.

All but one, that is.

White hair. Red scar. Grey eyes.

What right did he have?

What did he understand, and _how dare he interfere in this moment?_

The boy was in front of him, Innocence ready, shouting more than anyone else and presuming to understand about Kanda and the Akuma he fought. _Walker_. The boy who had been a source of anger so great for Kanda ever since he decided to set his damned self inside the Black Order.

The urge to kill quickly switched from Alma to this hated fellow exorcist. The white haired teenager put himself between Alma and Kanda, arms spread wide and pleading, and the samurai's sword sank satisfyingly into Allen Walker's bloody, scarred chest.

Kanda woke.

-·=»‡«=·-

And if he woke, then the world stopped.

Screams, threats, cries; crashes, slashes and sobs. It all was gone, leaving silence that was deafening in its oppressiveness, and ever so filled with expectation.

The picture in front of everyone should be clear as water: the image of a boy, lethally wounded and breathing his last on his murderer's hands. Any outsider would already be mourning for the victim; but they seemed shielded by their own expectations, beliefs that refused to accept Allen Walker could ever die.

It was born in those who had seen the white haired boy cheat death as proficiently as he did in poker; so many situations that should have ended in a messy demise ended with the exorcist up again, always smiling, always saying he was fine, always ready for the next battle. So they stared, enemy and friend alike, waiting for him to rise, scarred and hurt but ready to assure them and to fight. Because that was Allen Walker: always ready. Always smiling. Always alive.

Kanda had never been fooled by such notions.

The shorter exorcist, bathed in the blood of others and his own, seemed to take a moment to realize what had happened. His eyes turned to the mortal wound, and to the steel that tore at his heart mercilessly. He gasped, turning his eyes back to Kanda's own.

He was scared.

For the first time, Kanda saw him scared not for others, not for the world, but for _himself_.

Grey eyes shifted frantically from Kanda's face to his sword and back, as if unbelieving of what had happened. He hadn't expected that.

Allen hadn't expected Kanda to kill him.

And nor had Kanda.

"Allen…" started Kanda, but he was interrupted by Allen's own mouth that opened, in an attempt to say something. No words were formed: out of it poured only thick, dark blood. A wet cough splattered Kanda with some of it, and the boy raised a shaky hand towards Kanda's chest, pushing himself away from the samurai. The sliding of the katana out of his heart made a sound so horrible the Japanese flinched and Allen fell to the floor, to the dirt and the dust.

Kanda didn't know what to do, so absurd this situation was, so he stared deep into those eyes, a bright grey that shone with the same light that the samurai had always hated. They spoke of hope and love and faith, beliefs that had no place in the unholy war. They carried and transmitted hope in a world that shouldn't have allowed it, and had always made him avert his gaze in disgust at a contradiction so great as a happy exorcist.

How many times had he dreamed of tearing this uncanny positiveness out of the stupid boy?

Today, it bled out of Allen's face right in front of Kanda's eyes.

The grey eyes became empty and unseeing. And today, despite what he had thought, they were harder than ever to look at.

The frozen silence was finally torn by a desperate scream, and it was as if everyone and everything suddenly left their trance and realized what had happened.

 _Nothing could kill Allen Walker._

What a joke.

The world woke, Kanda stopped, and Allen died.

-·=»‡«=·-

The funeral was held two days later, arranged by one Cross Marian who finally deemed to appear. Kanda didn't go: he wasn't interested in dead bodies.

No one called for him.

The still blood covered Mugen lay behind the bed, thrown as it was the very day Kanda arrived in the new headquarters, and left untouched ever since.

-·=»‡«=·-

When tragedy happens, there is a need to blame someone. So the Order blamed Kanda. And they made it very clear to him.

They weren't wrong; his crime was clear as day, and only his status as an exorcist allowed him to escape from prison and death.

Not everyone agreed with this.

"He was our friend!" exclaimed one of the Finders whose names Kanda never had bothered to learn. He never did. "He was always there, and, and he just tried to help, and you _killed_ him!"

Perhaps it had been the way Kanda had acted as of late, laying low and only leaving his room for the most basic necessities.

"You monster! You've always thought of others lives as useless compared to yours! But to kill him… to kill _Allen_ of all people-"

It could also be because of the way he had been absurdly silent, avoiding other humans as much as they avoided him.

"Monster!" shrieked the female scientist, pushing against him. Another nameless one, whom he had never talked to before. The commotion grew bigger and the number of people around him only increased.

Indeed, his behavior of late was allowing the weak Order members to muster courage they had never had before. They blamed him, they wanted him to hurt, and they weren't wrong, but…

" _We loved him!"_

Out of all people in this world… these, he wouldn't allow this honor. The honor of defending Allen.

His push back was far stronger than hers, and her fragile body hit the opposite wall with a loud crack. The other person who was too close, the finder of before, was met with a strong punch, and his face caved under the strength of his fist.

"Your lot have been killing him for months," Kanda murmured against the newly found quietness of the halls, his calm voice contradicting the black fire of his eyes. And if Kanda was surprised at his own words, he didn't show it.

They didn't bother him again.

-·=»‡«=·-

 _The tension in the air had been palpable. And if it had not been, then everyone's faces would be enough of an alert about the general disposition of those in the dark conference room._

 _Except Lavi and Kanda. The first was as relaxed as ever, and the latter, annoyed but mostly uncaring._

 _And let's not forget Walker._

 _He donned, indeed, the strangest expression in the room. It wasn't similar to Lavi's eerie, ever present calm, nor to Kanda's irritation. No… Walker's serene smile was completely absurd. It looked so incredibly calm and friendly, even as the boy opened his mouth to say words no one else would be able to with such ease:_

" _If I ever show signs of being taken over by the Noah, you are to kill me immediately."_

 _The smile. So fake, so absurd Kanda had wanted to retch._

If _he showed signs? The signs were there so often his declaration could be as well considered a request for an assisted suicide._

 _Walker had smiled happily as he put this burden on the shoulders of others._

 _Kanda had wanted to rip that smile apart._

-·=»‡«=·-

Time passes.

-·=»‡«=·-

It was far too late for him to be around. The Order had nothing similar to a curfew, but he had always been one to go to bed early and rise before the sun, whenever possible. Today, however, his bed was as comfortable as a hard floor covered by thorns. His room felt sometimes too hot and sometimes too cold, and the Innocence he had yet to touch felt like an enemy by his side. But more than that –

" _Good evening, Kanda."_

– he felt as if he wasn't alone in that room, anymore.

" _Could…" silver eyes looked uncertain, as he likely already knew the answer to his question. "Could we speak for a short while?"_

He shook his head in an attempt to dispel the memory, but had already grown to understand how futile that was. He'd been growing sick, sicker than he ever thought he could be. With only the imaginary company of someone he had always hated and without Mugen by his side, he wondered whether he hadn't also killed himself that day, weeks ago.

The corridors were dark. His footsteps sounded loud enough to awaken the whole Order, even if he rationally knew that was merely an effect of the emptiness and silence around him.

He turned in a corner, and was surprised to find not one of the exits, but another corridor, filled by more doors. He turned back to the path he came from and realized, with confusion, that he hadn't been walking towards the entrance hall, going instead in the direction of the Black Order's very center.

It must be because this place was newly built, he decided, still wanting to find the exit. The corridors had been growing uncomfortably humid, even as he felt himself warm. The air was thick and the urge to breath fresh air became unbearable.

" _Good evening,"_

 _It should be around here_ , he thought uncertainly, opening large doors, only to find himself in the center of the building yet again.

He raised a hand to his hair, out of a nervous habit. His fingers got caught in the long mass of black, and he found himself surprised at how untidy it was.

His hand was sweaty.

" _Kanda. Could we speak?"_

He growled in anger at his inability to stay composed. That voice resonated in the walls, walls he couldn't identify because he was lost. The voice was replayed by his memory only, and only he could hear, and thus should be able to control.

The room spun somehow, and he raised a hand to one of the cold walls to keep himself up.

" _For a short while…"_

"Shut up," he gasped, giving in the temptation to talk to the ghost.

" _Please?"_

"Kanda?"

The voice wasn't everywhere anymore, but behind him. He broke.

" _SHUT UP, BEANSPROUT!"_ He screamed, turning around with fire in his eyes, slamming his fist against hard stone walls.

Dark eyes, startled and so different from those that haunted him, stared up at his own.

 _Lenalee_.

It felt so long ever since he last saw her.

She was wearing a long nightgown, likely to protect herself from the cold. Straight, thick hair brushed her shoulders, and her arms were crossed in front of her chest, as a form of self defense. The bangles around her ankles shone, ready to activate, as she had likely felt threatened by his outburst.

Her eyes were surrounded by dark circles, her lips were worried and her frame was thinner than ever; she stood unmoving, frozen in place, even as her Innocence slowly went dormant once again.

Once upon a time, he would asked what was wrong. He had grown by her side and, though his personality had never suffered a great change, he had cared about her. He'd always cared about her, one people amidst the few he gave a damn about in the whole Order.

But that was a long time ago. Now he had murdered Allen Walker, one of her dearest friends, and the effects of his demise on the girl showed. In the span of a minute, he'd become her worst enemy and he wondered, unarmed as he was, why she didn't end him with her own Innocence.

Perhaps, he speculated as he stared into these cold eyes that were once so warm for Kanda, she was above killing another exorcist.

Unlike him.

Unable to stand under her rightfully judgmental gaze, he took his aching fist from the wall, ready to leave without a word. As he took two steps away from her, however, he felt a small hand closing around his wrist.

"Kanda," Lenalee said, now looking more sure of herself.

He turned towards her. He owed the girl as much.

Her eyes weren't as cold, anymore. They seemed to become warmer as she stared at him, mouth pressed into a thin line, until a tear finally ran down one of her cheeks, where many others had clearly run through for the past weeks.

"Kanda," she said one more time, voice filled with emotion. She ran towards and encircled him in her arms, and he couldn't move, for this was the least thing he had expected from his former friend. What was she doing, embracing Allen Walker's murderer? What did she encircle him with her arms for, if not to strangle him?

He allowed her to stay like that for as long as she wanted; whether it was out of his own choice or because he couldn't move, he didn't know. She eventually retreated, and looked horribly broken, as if something that had been bottled up for a long time had finally been let out.

She raised a hand to his forehead. Her palm felt pleasingly cold.

"A-are you alright?" she whispered. "N-no, I mean… we are close to the infirmary. I will take you there," she said, grabbing his hand. She winced, and he wondered about what she felt.

He didn't know they were close to the infirmary; no, indeed, he had been quite lost. Seeing Lenalee, however, felt like a dash of reality. No voice taunted him anymore; the absence of imaginary noise felt like a mockery, a confirmation of his own insanity. The corridors, however, remained as eerie as before, and the air, as suffocating.

"Kanda? Why are you…"

"Air," he gasped, feeling his chest constrict. "Outside."

"Of… of course," said she, taking him in what he supposed was the correct direction.

It didn't take long for them to leave the building; not with Lenalee's sure, gentle guidance. Soon he felt the cold wind hit his body and with it an infinite expanse of fresh, untainted air. He took it in greedily, staring at the star filled sky and avoiding the fortress behind them, tall and imposing in its corruption.

Lenalee remained silent by his side, and eventually left. He still stood outside, until dawn, hearing the soft sounds of wildlife. There was the rustle of leaves, the movement of animals, quite a few noisy insects and the hoot of a nearby owl, and it was somewhat soothing. He felt the pressure that was growing inside of him slowly easing and disappearing, even if just temporarily.

-·=»‡«=·-

One morning, she visited him. Two soft knocks on the door and, once he opened it, she entered, without preamble. They stared at each other for a long time. Under the light of day, her pitiful state was enhanced, but she wasn't crying. She had never cried, lately, and he wondered when she became so strong.

She eventually directed him to his bed. Somewhat befuddled, Kanda allowed her to do so, sitting in the mattress. Lenalee also knelt on it, right behind him and, for a moment, Kanda imagined this was where she would murder him. He could already see it: she would activate her Innocence and end him with a single kick. She'd do so from a position where he couldn't see it, out of mercy. Or perhaps she would now grab his head and twist it until she heard his neck crack –

"Where is Mugen?" she asked instead. Her hands touched his head, not to kill him, but to undo the poorly tied ponytail. Her fingers freed and combed his hair.

"Behind my bed," said Kanda, not seeing a reason to lie.

"I see. You really should carry it with you, Kanda," she chided, now petting his head. The gesture was affectionate and her hands, gentle.

Something was wrong, he thought, but remained in silence.

"I miss him," murmured Lenalee finally, and he readied himself for the moment that had to come; for her accusations, rightful and unavoidable. "I miss him so badly… Kanda… I loved him. I _loved_ him," she said, and the forceful emphasis on the word made the true message clear. He clenched his fists.

"But… you miss him, too," she said finally, and he turned his tired gaze towards her. Her face wasn't filled with condemnation, only with pain. "It's so clear. What happened… it has been killing you, too."

Her gaze shifted to the side and, despite his reluctance to do so, he turned his own eyes towards the same direction, to the window Lenalee looked at. It was larger than the one in his previous bedroom, the iron frames decorated by the always present archaic, religious themes of the church. The glass, clean and shiny, became an almost perfect mirror.

He finally understood what she saw.

If Lenalee was bad, then he was utterly destroyed. His face was a mockery of his usual semblance, carrying such an exhausted and tragic air he could hardly recognize himself. Bloodshot eyes could as well be dead, so weak was their gaze, his long hair was an unrepairable mess unattended to for weeks and, looking at his body now, he could hardly accuse Lenalee of being thin.

He saw, though their reflection, Lenalee now sitting by his side. Their bodies touched, and she circled one of his arms with both of her own. Her fingers tangled with his, locking around them as she also stared at their imagery, frozen in the window like an ugly portrait.

"You were so angry, Kanda," she whispered, caressing his arm slowly, an obvious attempt at comforting a very pitiful person. "So confused. You didn't know what you were doing, did you?"

He never looked at her, never stopped looking at his own reflection, and did nothing to deny or confirm her words.

"So confused… Innocent. It's not your fault," she said, voice raising to a childish coo, and his muscles stiffened in alarm.

Something was definitely wrong.

"I wanted to hurt you, Kanda. I wanted to kill you, for killing… Allen. I want… _no_ ," she said, and her voice, once calm and reasonable, now seemed far too deranged to his senses.

She sighed, never releasing him. "I will kill them all, Kanda. I will kill each and every one of them. _Soo slowly_ ," she sang, resting her head on his shoulder, and Kanda finally understood.

She wasn't strong. She didn't resist the pain.

Instead, she broke.

"Lenalee," he said finally, wanting to interrupt her dark drivel.

Not listening to him, she continued as if he hadn't said a word. "We will do it, won't we? Those of us who truly cared about him. You can take your revenge, for being forced to kill Allen. Because you never meant to. No, you didn't."

Her fingers left his arms, combing through his now somewhat tidy hair, instead. Her face twisted in a smile so twisted it had to hurt. "So become better, alright? It won't do to fight in such a state. We will win the war, for him, and we will kill them all."

He wondered whether she spoke of the Noah clan, the Order, or both. He also wondered when she would snap and kill the true culprit - him.

Lenalee rose, finally leaving his side. "But for that, you need your Innocence. You really should take it everywhere you go, Kanda. Here, I will…"

"Don't," he said firmly, grabbing the insane girl's wrist. "I'll get it," lied Kanda. "Don't worry."

He didn't want to know what her reaction would be, if she saw his blade still coated in Allen's now long dried blood.

-·=»‡«=·-


	3. 2 - Intermission

**Cursed Twice**

-·=»‡«=·-

 **Intermission**

 _The knocks resounded once again and Kanda opened the door impatiently. Outside was a certain annoying exorcist, dressed casually, clearly free from any missions as of now. His frame carried a certain tension, even if he tried to hide it with easy gestures, and his gaze held a mix of doubt and determination._

" _Good evening, Kanda. Could…" silver eyes looked uncertain, as he likely already knew the answer to his question. "Could we speak for a short while?"_

" _I don't think I could get rid of you if I tried," said Kanda, despite the fact that he could have merely closed the door. After all was said and done, however, he had wanted to talk to the boy. All the better if he wasn't the one doing the asking, though. "On with it, beansprout."_

" _Thank you," said Allen, closing the door behind him. No angry retort of 'my name is Allen.' And for all the bean was a bother, Kanda would rather have him angry than carrying that annoying smile, usually reserved only for those idiotic enough to believe it._

" _Tell me something, bean," said Kanda from his bed, where he polished his weapon. He watched with satisfaction as Allen's eyes twitched with familiar annoyance at the hated nickname. He'd break soon._

 _Allen raised his head. "Yes?"_

" _Are you happy right now?"_

 _If there was any way to befuddle Allen, this had to be it. The boy's mouth opened with shock, and it was clear he couldn't believe it. Seeing as Kanda's angry glare never receded, however, the boy sighed._

" _I don't think so…" he finally shook his head. "No, Kanda, I am not."_

" _I see," said Kanda, finishing his job. The katana shone satisfyingly under the light, and he sheathed it. "Then do me a favor, and drop this repulsive smile, before I give you a reason to."_

 _The boy didn't seem surprised. He stared at Kanda and the man watched as the fake pleasantness fell from the boy's face, revealing only emptiness._

 _For some reason, he didn't feel like expelling the boy from his room, as he usually would. He had wanted to talk to him, yes, but the words Kanda had prepared for his fellow exorcist were as unpleasant as they could be and, right now, he didn't feel like saying them at all._

" _Is there a reason you decided to come here?" he asked, not bothering to inject any hostility on his tone._

 _Allen shifted, seeming uncomfortable. "Today, my room has been feeling… quite suffocating."_

" _How so?"_

" _Ah… when I'm not on missions, I stay there, now. All the time. Unless I have to eat, or bath, that is." His cheeks reddened in shame. "But I guess I got tired of having only the walls for company."_

 _Something was wrong with him, thought Kanda. "I've had the displeasure of visiting your bedroom once, beansprout. I've faced the worst horrors in my life, and still wouldn't want to stay there for more than a minute." Allen seemed to smile a little at that, and it didn't look fake, this time. "So what, then? You felt lonely, and decided to come to me, of all people?" he asked, and the incredulity on his tone was true._

 _The grey eyed boy seemed to reflect on his words, before finally saying them. "You've always been… different, from everyone else in the Order, Kanda," said Allen, his eyes never leaving Kanda's own. "It's somewhat refreshing."_

 _Kanda snorted derisively. "In what am I different from them, beansprout? Is that because I am the only person who hates you?"_

 _Allen chuckled at that and Kanda, seeing as that was sincere, didn't berate him for it. He merely raised an eyebrow, silently asking the other exorcist what was so funny._

" _Ah, Kanda, you don't understand," said Allen finally, eyes filled with honest but dark mirth. "That is precisely what you have in common with them all."_

" _That is quite a dramatic remark, beansprout," mocked Kanda though, admittedly, Allen's words weren't far from the truth._

"God fucking damn it, Kanda," _snarled Allen, and the samurai almost fell from the bed in shock. "Call me by my bloody name for once, will you?"_

 _The shock wore off, however, and Kanda let out an involuntary chuckle. Allen seemed to realize what he had said and sat there in shock. Some of the tension from his frame eased off, before his shoulders were shaking with repressed laughs. The scene of two people who never got along laughing together triggered a memory of himself and another person, many years ago, and he had to force it down. Allen didn't stop laughing, however; instead, he became louder, and curled on himself, seated as he was on Kanda's single chair._

" _It's not so funny, Walker," said Kanda when the situation seemed out of control. The idiot boy was now laughing so hard he was choking, and Kanda started to honestly worry about his mental health. "Walker-"_

 _Clear teardrops fell to the floor, from the place where Allen hid his face between his folded arms. Kanda froze, wondering where the agitated laughter became… that._

-·=»‡«=·-


	4. 3 - Alive

**Cursed Twice**

-·=»‡«=·-

 **Chapter two**

"Kanda," said the voice that had opened the door without his permission. He'd forgotten to lock it. "I've asked the staff to tell you to go to my office, but you never came."

That voice, that had always been so dramatic, either with exaggerated cheer or crocodile tears, was uncharacteristically devoid of perceivable emotions.

Not that he cared.

"Kanda," urged him once more, "I know it has been hard on… all of us, but you know you can't stay here forever, right?"

The Japanese's hands clenched where they touched the bedclothes. He knew what that meant.

"The war continues, Kanda. We need you to fight."

No need to remain silent or unmoving, or even to ask questions; he knew very well what he had to do.

Finally acquiescing to the Branch Head's request, Kanda got up from where he sat in the bed, circling it and reaching, unwavering, for what lay behind the mattress.

Komui's eyes seemed to freeze when he saw what Kanda carried in his hands; the state it was now in.

For held in the Second Exorcist's grip lay Mugen, covered in a strange, thick amount of rust that made the Innocence's appearance of a sword unrecognizable.

And streaked through it were the remains of deep, dried red of unquestionable origins.

"We…" started Komui, after a whole minute of silence, after finally processing what had happened. "We need to see Hevlaska."

-·=»‡«=·-

"One, two… three percent," said the ethereal Hevlaska, keeper of the holy crystals, as she held both Innocence and exorcist in her hands. "This Innocence has lost most of its compatibility."

"Is there nothing that can be done?" asked one of the inspectors from the Central that, together with Komui, accompanied the examination.

"Trying to have him synchronize with his weapon in such a state could make him become a Fallen One," said Hevlaska, still studying the weapon and its accommodator. "It is strange… this particular Innocence has always had the highest synchronization rate among equipment types who do not belong to Generals," she observed.

Tense silence followed her comments. No one wanted to lose another exorcist, no matter who he was; the war had only became worse ever since the Earl went in a rampage, insane with grief at losing the Noah that resided inside of Allen. It was only his mental instability that still allowed the Order to fight back.

"Perhaps we should still try to-"

"We have already tried to force synchronizations," Komui's stern voice resounded in the enormous chamber, surprising everyone present in its fierceness. "The Order has worked so hard to have this Accommodator. Do you really want to lose him again?"

"I will keep watch over this piece of Innocence, if you agree, Yuu Kanda," declared Hevlaska, and the man offered no protest. She tenderly picked the rusted sword and had it dissolve into its primary form, resting in the floor with the many others that had been found.

Kanda left, with listening to the lamentations of those who wondered why Mugen would have decided to deny Kanda after working for so many years together, after going through terrible trials to become compatible. Why had the Innocence refused its accommodator?

Little did they know, thought Kanda, that it was the other way around.

As of now, he felt he could finally sleep in something resembling peace with it far away from him.

-·=»‡«=·-

There was no true peace. He would have thought finally being able to sleep would do him some good. Mugen had always been behind his mattress, hidden from view but always exuding such a strong presence. The presence of his weapon, that once made him feel stronger, had started tormenting him; he couldn't sleep with the accomplice of his murder so close by and yet, for some reason, Kanda had needed prodding from Komui's and Hevlaska's decision in order to finally rid himself of it.

The blade he used to activate with such ease it became a reflex couldn't fit his palms without burning them, and he knew, despite the Order's hope, that he would never go back to Hevlaska and retrieve it.

And now that he finally could rest by himself, he did. He closed his eyes at the right time and opened them when he should, too. The rest started revitalizing his body somewhat, and he could feel the weakness from the abuse of lack of sleep going away. He ate and cared for himself as always, even the physical training, though the sword exercises were never repeated, not with the now incompatible Mugen and not with any other similar weapon. Outwardly, he was much better, and most people in the Order had stopped antagonizing him, treating him like as nonexistent instead.

It should have been fine… but there was no comfort.

Alma was dead. He was killed amidst the Earl's rage, whatever regenerative power his seal had spent under the furious blast of Dark Matter.

Walker was dead. Kanda's blade had undone him. He had not been killed by the Earl, by the Noah nor the Akuma he had wanted so badly to save, but by a fellow exorcist.

And finally, that person… the woman in Kanda's memories, who had haunted the man so much, and whom he knew he had once loved more than anyone. The one who fueled every one of his movements, just because he had wanted to meet her and be by her side. She should be the last thing that kept him linked to this world, and he had no different news about her, but he knew he wouldn't look for her anymore.

He had awakened his Innocence for her. Killed Alma for her, became an exorcist for her, and lived day after day so they could meet, and yet… for some reason…

He felt as if she wasn't in this world anymore.

Whether it was because he knew she wouldn't want to live with a betrayer who murdered his comrade, or just because he had some sort of sixth sense that told him she wasn't in this world anymore… the fact was that his quest now felt empty, useless.

There was nothing more to live for.

He wasn't one for dramatics, for tears or suicide, so he kept surviving – eating, bathing, exercising, sleeping.

But there was no true peace.

-·=»‡«=·-

Some days later, they started.

The rumors.

Exorcists came and went, missions always ready for them to take; he watched them wearing the same Order uniform he had already disposed of, not truly feeling like one of them anymore. He watched them leaving with the finders and the occasional Crow, and coming back, a smile on their faces and new Innocence shard in hand, or a defeated look – no Innocence to be seen, or perhaps bringing the news of the death of a comrade they couldn't protect.

Their words and conversations came and went, and he paid them no mind, but then he heard that name.

Whenever he heard Walker's name leaving someone's mouth on the vicinity, it was because they wanted to blame Kanda for his death. This hadn't happened for a long time, however, so he raised his eyes from his solitary meal and watched the two exorcists, together with other Order personnel, speaking about their last mission.

"I thought we were going to die," continued the man who had spoken. "It had been set as a difficult mission from the very start, and with so many Akuma… no matter what I did, my Innocence simply wasn't enough."

"Then how did you guys survive? Finders can hold them back, but not finish the fight."

"Ah… well…" said he, suddenly embarrassed. "You see, there was another exorcist."

"The Order sent you more help?" said a Finder, surprised. "That's very good for you, but I thought we were short on personnel."

"No, it was someone else," said the exorcist, seeming to grow more and more hesitant.

The other people around the table seemed to grow impatient. "Who was it? Say it already!"

"Heh… would you believe it, if I said," spoke him finally, rubbing the back of his head embarrassedly, "that it was a white haired boy very similar to Allen Walker?"

-·=»‡«=·-

Like any sane person, or as sane as he could be lately, Kanda ignored those stupid words, feeling a spike of anger inside himself at the delusional exorcist who wanted to fool himself into believing Walker was alive. What would concocting tales do to any of them? He either saw an exorcist for another branch and mistook him for the dead teenager, or was outright lying. Either way, it was disgusting.

Two weeks later, however, new whispers and murmurs could be heard, and though he tried to get close to hear more, the people who talked together immediately became silent as soon as he approached them.

He didn't force them to say a word, but it didn't matter, because he had gotten the gist of their conversation.

An exorcist, white cloaked, who had helped them in a mission in Japan, the country controlled by Akuma, the Millennium Earl's empire.

The anger bubbled once more, but it wasn't simply a mere spike.

Did they want to resurrect Walker so badly, they started pretending the idiot boy was still alive? Wasn't what had happened enough? Not only Kanda's final act against the white haired exorcist, but also the attacks they had imposed upon him for months before his untimely demise?

Only very careful control over his newfound emotions kept him from lashing out. They wouldn't want to hear him where Walker was concerned.

-·=»‡«=·-

More stories, more speculation.

It was now impossible to explore the Black Order's walls without being disturbed by them at least once. Finders, exorcists, and even a damned Crow. Guards, scientists and the bloody chef. The hearsay once secret and whispered in corners had spread to a point where everyone had heard of it.

Sightings of Allen Walker.

Whenever battle was too difficult, whenever the enemy was too strong… he had appeared. Never interacting directly with them, never getting too close, but the Innocence, the moves, the silhouette, they were all unmistakable.

It made Kanda want to kill them all. He had started to forget, or so he thought. At the very least, he had stopped hearing the boy's voice in the halls, stopped dreaming about that scared, bloodied face. Stopped feeling that battered body sliding from his katana's blade.

Did they need to restart it all? Were they hoping to turn Allen Walker into one of those church saints you prayed to, just so they would help them in their times of dire need? Or perhaps they knew what it did to Kanda's sanity, and spoke nonsense near him out of spite.

He started avoiding the halls once more, eating less frequently, avoiding people, because that was his only way of avoiding Allen himself, present not physically, but through people's words and beliefs. The Order grew in noise and hope thanks to the misconceptions of a few imbeciles, and Kanda's mind grew unstable once more thanks to their need to revive the boy he had killed, even if only through their chatter.

"I-it's been a while, but I heard… I heard he opened a portal to the Ark, a month ago" squealed an annoying young man, a short scientist of light, frizzy hair wearing large round glasses. "Only Allen could do that, right? I mean… in order to help us, only he would…"

His face was so full of foolish happiness at the mere possibility of what he was insinuating. In front of the scientist, with her back to Kanda, was an exorcist in full uniform. The blond man seemed as if he would say more, but then he saw Kanda behind his companion and paled. Muttering something about unfinished projects he left, hurried steps betraying his fear.

Feeling the threat behind her, the woman turned around, gasping once she saw Kanda. She quickly took three steps away, never turning her back to him again, her wide eyes never leaving his own.

"K-Kanda," she said finally, in that tremulous voice of hers that he had always detested so much. Seeing her brought back a memory of almost a year ago. He could remember chastising her for not remembering a password, and Allen angrily interfering in her defense –

"Kanda?" she said once more, staring at him with doubt. Miranda Lotto. She was one who proclaimed having been saved by Allen, too – these numbers seemed to grow more and more lately – and he had expected her, more than anyone else, to lash at him. Or perhaps not – her frail and pathetic personality would never allow for such an outburst, but surely she would have cried and insulted him, waiting for someone stronger to take her away from her friend's murderer whom she could not kill.

"Lotto," said Kanda finally, and when she flinched, he was not surprised. "I have heard some of that nonsense. You don't believe it, do you?"

Kanda didn't know why he had even bothered to ask. This was one of the people who had most annoyed him, and he had never wanted her company before – he didn't, even now. But such a long time had passed ever since he had some sort of human contact, save for the unhinged Lenalee who came to him occasionally, whispering of betrayals, of hate, of revenge and of Allen.

"Of course I do not," said she with a weak voice, and he was surprised. He had expected her, of all people, to miserably cling to whatever hope was thrown to her. "Allen… he had always been such a good boy. Such people…" she her eyes grew visibly watery, but she thankfully held her emotions back, "such people don't last long, do they?"

 _I hate people like you. Your kind is the one that dies first._

Remembering his words to Allen when the boy had joined the Order Kanda thought, sardonically, that he had made a prophecy that day. Then again, did it really count if he was the one who made it happen?

"Indeed," said Kanda, and it looked as if she wanted to run away, but didn't have the courage to. "Guess seeing a person dead should be enough of a wake up call, but these idiots insist on reviving their hero, don't they?" And since when did he become so talkative? He decided to end the ridiculous conversation then and there, and almost turned away before Miranda said her next words.

"Actually… we didn't see it," she whispered. "I mean, he was there, but we couldn't really see… perhaps that is what allows some hope t-to grow in people's hearts…"

The dark haired man eyed her, processing her words and hoping they were mere drivel. "You didn't see Walker's body? Didn't you go to the funeral?"

"Oh, yes, we did," said Miranda, voice weakening as the pain of the memory forced itself upon her once more. "But the coffin was closed. The damage was too great, you…" she recoiled, finally having had too much. Still standing, she curled on herself, head hidden by her dark wavy bangs, as she finally gave up and started crying.

"You are wrong," he whispered, and then his eyes narrowed. "You are wrong! Walker wasn't damaged. Not to the point of being hidden-"

"Enough… leave me… please…"

"He was fine!" and understanding the ridiculousness of his words, he reformulated, "he was fine… in appearance. It was just a stab. There was no reason for them to-"

"ENOUGH!" shouted her with so much pain and anger that he knew he wouldn't be getting anywhere with her. She turned on her heels and ran, and he knew he would likely be intercepted if he tried to follow the now hysterical woman as she fled to somewhere.

-·=»‡«=·-

Two days passed, and Kanda lay on his bed as the afternoon slowly gave way to night. The sky looked a sickly orange, and he turned away from the window, as he waited for an answer from his companion.

The hands that had been treading through his hair for the last half hour had stilled when he made the question, and he decided not to push it, so as to avoid making her lose whatever little control she still had over her actions.

He never talked about Allen, not in front of her. It was always she who started. But today, he just needed to get to know the truth.

"It was… closed," she said, voice as soft as that of a mother who told her child a story, and her fingers resumed their movement, combing Kanda's dark hair slowly. "They didn't let me see him. I wanted to… so much. One last time."

Kanda tensed at this revelation, that Lotto's words were true. The coffin had indeed been closed. But why?

"He didn't let me, though. He should understand. He was close to Allen, too, he should understand, but he said Allen was too hurt, he couldn't be _seen_ -"

"Who is 'he'?" demanded Kanda, feeling her grip on his head tightening with stress, some strands of hair being painfully ripped from his scalp, but it didn't matter.

"Who? General Cross…" said she, now massaging the head she had hurt in a new bout of bipolarity. "He wouldn't let anyone open it… it was such a pretty thing, all white, with white flowers everywhere. But I wanted to see Allen," she said softly. "And not simply his portrait. Even if he was very hurt, I wouldn't have minded. I would have loved him anyway… I would…"

He didn't broach the topic anymore – he had enough, already. Lotto's words were the truth, and the one responsible for the strange fact was one Cross Marian, the general who had once again disappeared from the Order, shortly after his apprentice's death. Kanda had never cared for the man, but now, troubled by the insistence of the others that Allen had to be alive and this new revelation, he just _had_ to know. If Allen had died, and not with a disfiguring wound… why had it been made sure that his body would be buried without being seen?

-·=»‡«=·-

An exorcist with Innocence of a clawed left hand had been seen fighting a level four that no one else could get rid of.

A figure in a white cape had been sighted with another mysterious exorcist, some unknown woman wearing a strange mask together with him, and they had fought the Noah themselves, seen only by three Finders who had been smart enough to hide from the conflict.

A young man with a giant sword and missing his left arm clashed against the Earl, even if he disappeared before anyone could get a closer glimpse of his face.

Allen. He was in every mind, in every talk.

And so the boy's whispers and the memories of him started suffocating Kanda once more, and he could barely leave his room. He became a recluse once more, his only company Lenalee, but she didn't come as often, lately – she wanted to shield herself from the others' speculation as badly as Kanda did, it seemed.

Mugen was gone, but Kanda didn't have peace anymore.

-·=»‡«=·-

He searched for clues, confronted the people who affirmed having seen Allen, even looked for that damned red haired General who had much to explain, but it was all for naught. None wished to speak to him and the rumors remained without proof. So he had to deal, day after day, with people who insisted there was a chance Allen Walker was alive. And he swore he would never fall for it, swore he would never lower himself to their level.

But after so much pressure, even a mind as resolute as his started to give.

It was obvious he would eventually break.

-·=»‡«=·-

There was no rain, no thunder or some dramatic nonsense. The sky was as clear as it could get, no clouds stopping the moon and stars from witnessing his deeds.

Under the moonlight walked a man who could easily be mistaken for a wraith, the effect created both by the darkness that surrounded him and his eyes, filled with emotions that were indescribable. Over his shoulder he carried a shovel, and his marching became faster the closer he got to his destination.

By the time he reached the graveyard he was already running, running towards a spot he had visited before, if only once. It wasn't hard to find; amidst the large expanse of earth it stood by its lonesome, the pristine white marble shining as a beacon, surrounded by flowers and offerings that were both old and new.

Allen Walker's grave.

The Order had recently moved and thus the boy had been the only one who was buried here, though considering their line of work, more and more stones would soon make him company. Only once did Kanda come here before, in one of those moments he questioned his sanity and whether the exorcist had really died. Seeing the white stone with his own eyes made him believe, back then. It calmed his thoughts of lies and deception.

What a mistake had it been.

Couldn't he raise a tomb for his own self? Couldn't he plant a tall stone in the middle of this earth also, engraving on it his name, while still being alive?

What sort of proof such a thing could be?

Months ago, or perhaps even a week before, he wouldn't believe what he was doing now. He would consider the very idea disgusting and insane. But he had to know, he _had_ to, and there was only one way to attempt to find a rest for his mind.

Decided, he forced the shovel into the still soft earth. And once he had done so, it felt as if he had erased all of his reluctance. Repeating his movements again and again with unstopping determination, he wounded the earth again and again, shoveling the dirt behind him, dirtying his own clothes in the process. Sometimes he would hit something hard, but it was only a large stone, which he would proceed to get rid of. He then continued, making his way deeper and deeper, uncaring of anything else; frustration at not reaching his objective made his moves angrier and more rushed. The hole felt endless, as if he would tear his way through the earth until its very center before finding what he searched for.

He eventually hit what he wanted, however. Instead of stone, it was clearly a different, smooth, albeit dirty material. Wood.

He gasped, not realizing he had been feeling incredibly tired, and continued his work, only now with less violence, even if the speed continued the same.

He had almost finished uncovering the coffin, when he saw it. A large shadow covering him from above, stretched by the moonlight; his movements stilled and he looked up, determined to get rid of whatever interrupted him in this moment. He was almost there.

What he saw, however, made him stop.

Above him was the very person he would most like to avoid right then.

Dark eyes stared him like those of a predator, deranged and irrational.

He didn't move. _Couldn't_ move. Any wrong movement would set her off.

"What are you doing?" came her whisper, and it felt more dangerous than any scream or shout.

"Lenalee, listen-"

She trembled convulsively. Her legs, he noticed with alarm, were covered with Innocence. It looked as unstable as its accommodator, crawling over her skin like a quivering, raging mass of darkness and slowly forming the so called holy weapon, the speed and precision affected by its owner's unsteady mindset.

He had no doubt, however, that it would take less than a couple of seconds to destroy him.

"Is killing him not enough?" said she in deceptive calm. There was no hint of a tear, only hate so profound Kanda wondered if his own hatred had ever reached such an extent. "Do you have to come here, and violate him too?"

"Allen isn't dead," he said hurriedly, hoping to stop her thought process before she ended him over Allen's coffin. "I know it. Haven't you heard the rumors? They are true!" He wasn't absolutely sure of that; that was why he needed confirmation in the first place, but he needed to convince her. "I'm here to prove it. It's a lie, Lenalee. His body isn't here. It is _not_."

She seemed frozen by that; no movement could be seen, not even the rise and fall of her chest, and her Innocence also seemed frozen; if he didn't know better, he'd think time had stopped.

"Alright, Kanda," said she in the childish voice she had lately developed. "Open it. Open it."

Thanking his luck, Kanda turned his back to her, throwing the shovel away. He had enough space to open it, having uncovered most of the coffin, and he certainly had enough strength.

"But, Kanda," said the young woman calmly, from her position in the ground above him, "if he's there… if he's there, then I'm going to place you with him, too."

He felt his heartbeats accelerate with the death threat. She stood behind and above him, like a judge, like an executioner. For a moment, he hesitated.

But then he thought over it again. He wanted to confirm Allen's death, or the lack of it. If he didn't find the boy, then his suspicions were proven. And if he did… if he did…

Then he had truly killed Allen. The whole case was solved, and Lenalee would do the honors of punishing him. What was there to do, if he found the deceased exorcist here? Would it be so bad if he got what he deserved, right in this place?

Determined and wanting to prolong this no longer, he placed a foot over the earth, another over one of the coffin's corners, then placed his hands on the lid and pulled. There were mechanisms designed to correctly open it, he supposed, but there was no time for it – he wanted to have his questions answered now, and preferably before Lenalee lost it and murdered him.

Once the lid opened, he allowed no reluctance to stop his movements, no matter how nauseated and afraid he felt about what he could possibly find. Allen could be here, in the end – his rotting, unrecognizable corpse...

...was nothing more, he realized as he finally got the lid out his way, than a doll, human sized and faceless. His trembling hands picked the thing, before tearing it apart, ripping the head from the torso. Stones poured out, and also strips of fabric and paper and other such nonsense, everything shoved inside to make the object have the same weight of a person.

Allen wasn't here. _He had never been._

Above him Lenalee's strangled, long scream could be heard, though it sounded more like someone suffocating.

He didn't get up to help her. He felt he was suffocating, too.

-·=»‡«=·-


End file.
